


Men of Honor

by payroo



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, overly long flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/payroo/pseuds/payroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They had said the Royal Protector was a traitor, a foreign-born bastard who had just been looking for the first chance to stab the fair empress in the back, but that wasn't the man Geoff had traveled with for six months, had longer still seen standing silent and steady behind the throne.</i>
</p><p>Geoff thinks back to his voyage around the Isles with the Lord Protector as he prepares to face High Overseer Campbell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the dishonored kinkmeme.

_His first lover was a soldier from Tyvia. He killed to keep the secret._

Ironic how everyone thought of him as incorruptible, when in fact Geoff had merely buried his secrets deeper than most. 

No, despite what his dear niece might think when she looked at him with bright eyes, Geoff knew that the closest thing Dunwall had to an incorruptible man was the man whose face was currently plastered all over Holger Square.

They had said the Royal Protector was a traitor, a foreign-born bastard who had just been looking for the first chance to stab the fair empress in the back, but that wasn't the man Geoff had traveled with for six months, had longer still seen standing silent and steady behind the throne. Geoff had envied him once, for his unwavering, unquestioning devotion to a singular cause, for never seeming to doubt, never even dreaming of doubt. 

(And yes, admired him as well. Geoff was old enough not to be so easily swayed by a handsome face, but Corvo cut a rather striking figure and he would be lying if he didn't admit that his eyes tended to wander to the man in the shadows behind the throne during uneventful posts at court.)

If only the City Watch was worthy of commanding such loyalty from Geoff, if only serving in the guard could inspire him to root out the darkness and sin within himself and uphold some noble ideal. But this was Dunwall, and Geoff Curnow, who had once smothered his superior officer in his sleep for threatening to expose him to the Overseers, was now the lone beacon of integrity upholding the _good name_ of the City Watch.

And now he was to lecture the High Overseer himself about righteousness and justice.

It would be hilarious if it weren't so damned sad.

_"It must be quite a change for you, being away from the Empress so long." Geoff gives Corvo a sidelong glance as they stand behind the ship's railing, Tyvia shrinking away in the distance. After a few months together on the sea, he has finally managed to get over his awe (and intimidation) of the stoic Royal Protector._

_Corvo laughs under his breath, corners of his dark eyes crinkling in either mirth or pain - it's hard to tell which when the latter is everywhere these days. "That's quite the understatement. I've been by her side since I was twelve years old."_

_Despite over twenty years in Dunwall, there's still a trace of Serkonos in Corvo's speech. Geoff's grandfather had spoken with the same musical lilt, and they still give Geoff hell for it. They were always destined to be men apart from the rest, it seems._

_"You must miss her terribly."_

_"How to describe?" Corvo sighs deeply and leans over the railing. "It's like my body has been cast adrift of my soul. Like a boat without a boatman, trawling the sea alone."_

_Surprisingly poetic coming from the bodyguard._

_"How does everyone else live with this kind of loneliness? Without a clear purpose, a very reason for being to guide them?"_

_Geoff rests his elbows on the railing next to Corvo's. Their shoulders brush. Their eyes meet. "We have our ways of coping."_


	2. Chapter 2

His subordinates trailed behind him nervously through Holger Square as they marched to the Office of the High Overseer. He couldn't blame them; tensions had been tight between the guards and the Overseers these days - which was the reason he was making this unpleasant trip to begin with. His guardsmen looked to him now, and he would not fail them. He was going to lay his grievances in front of Campbell, have a _civil_ discussion, and walk out the door once his goals were achieved.

Right... and Sokolov was set to cure the plague any day now and the Empress was going to come back to life and all the dead weepers along with her.

Geoff knew full well that Campbell had something planned. The only question was how far the High Overseer was willing to go. And judging by the tales he had heard of Campbell's depravity, Geoff wasn't so sure he liked the answer.

Well, what was a guard captain to do but his duty?

Maybe it was because the man had just escaped and his face was printed all over the city, or maybe Geoff was letting his mind wander back to that journey half a year ago, but he found himself picturing Corvo Attano. The Corvo he had known would not have flinched from his duty, even if it meant walking into a certain trap.

Geoff dismissed his guardsmen as Campbell approached. Since that incident in Tyvia, he had never really felt at ease around the Overseers, and Campbell was no exception, albeit for different reasons than the rest of the faithful flock. The man was a snake at best, a greedy incompetent at worst. Nevertheless, Geoff followed him into his lair, mind still milling over thoughts of the former Royal Protector.

Corvo would have done what was asked of him even if it killed him. By the Outsider, leaving the Empress's side to go on that journey had just about killed the man already.

_Geoff is having something of a crisis of conscience._

_The signals he has been getting from Corvo are, to say the least,_ encouraging _\- a clasp on the arm that lingers for a few extra seconds, a brush of hands too frequent to be accidental, a sidelong glance accompanied by a wistful smile. But the bodyguard obviously thinks of his royal charge constantly, ever the empty boat adrift in an open sea._

 _It would be wrong for Geoff to act on his own desires, to exploit Corvo's separation anxiety and_ fuck him three ways to the void.

_Geoff shakes his head to clear it and mentally slaps himself. No, stop. Yes, they've been on a ship together for four months. No, this is not what an honorable man does or thinks._

_Outsider's eyes, a man gets lonely out at sea._

_They've finally arrived at the shores of Serkonos. Corvo is pensive, even more sparse of words than usual. His mouth twists as his boots scuff the soil of the land he was born._

_"Cullero," he says, half to Geoff and half to himself, looking up at the quickly darkening sky. "The last time I was in this city was when I was twelve."_

_The politicians and other snakes -_ diplomats _, he means, it's getting late- will see them the next morning, so they head to a local pub to spend the night. Corvo, surprisingly, lets the assigned translator do most of the talking, while he stands tight-lipped with the rest of the men._

_"Different dialect?" Geoff asks from across the table, tongue loosened by wine._

_That twist of his mouth again. It's distractingly attractive, or maybe that was just the wine talking. Or maybe both._

_"I haven't spoken a word of Serkonan for almost twenty years," Corvo admits. He drinks deep from his wineglass, swirls it in his hand. "I don't want to sound like a child."_

_They're sitting across from each other, neither meeting the other's eyes. Geoff loses track of how many bottles come and are taken away._

_"Do you ever regret it? Giving your life to one person, before you were even grown?"_

_Corvo looks straight at him, eyes surprisingly sharp given how much wine they've had. Geoff's better judgement overcomes his intoxication, and he hastily stammers an apology._

_"Sorry, it's not my place."_

_"No, it's..." Corvo downs the contents of his current glass. "It's not an unfair question. I've never really thought about it. This has been the only life I've known. I've nothing to compare it to, for better or worse."_

_"She's a fine woman," Geoff mumbles after a uncomfortably long moment of silence._

_"Yes, that she is." Corvo smiles, and there it is - that unquestioning devotion in his eyes that had so intrigued and even attracted Geoff in the first place._

_"To our fair Empress. Long may she reign."_

_They talk of idle things after that, how Corvo misses a proper Serkonan blood sausage and how Geoff had always wanted to take his niece on a holiday to Karnaca._

_By the time most of the other soldiers have gone to bed, Geoff is inebriated enough to admit to himself that he's developed a bit of an infatuation with the Royal Lord Protector._

_"Do you love her?" Lubricated with wine, the question comes out almost on its own, so long had he ruminated on it during his sober hours._

_"Love?" Corvo rubs a hand over his shadowed eyes. "How can I love her, when she is me, my everything? No, she's greater than me, greater than love. She's," he gesticulates vaguely. The Lord Protector's surprisingly chatty under the influence. "I'm not her lover, if that's what you're wondering. It's what everyone wonders. I know you're thinking it too. But no, we have never... I belong to her. My heart, body, and soul are all already hers. It would be..." he waves his hands again, "redundant, if that's the right word."_

_Geoff blinks._

_Without any further thought, he reaches across the table for Corvo's shaking, callused hands and kisses him full on the mouth._

_Corvo gasps against him, mouth wet and warm and tasting of the wine they've both just had too much of. Their untrimmed beards rasp against each other as he pulls back._

_"Room," he says, rising unsteadily from his seat. Geoff follows him upstairs, beyond the point of caring about the maidservant pretending not to notice._

_Once the door is closed, Corvo slams their entwined bodies against it with surprising enthusiasm. Geoff is pressed between the wood at his back and Corvo's hardening..._ wood _at his front._

_"You've wanted this," Geoff breathes as Corvo sucks at his neck. That mark will show in the morning._

_"So have you," Corvo pauses to say. His eyes are dark in the dim candlelight. His body is lean and hard as Geoff clutches him against him, even through the layers of thick coat._

_Despite shaking hands and fumbling fingers, they make short work of each other's clothing, nearly tripping over a discarded boot as they fall sideways together on the bed._

_Corvo pins him down between his legs, face unreadable as he looks down at him. He runs his hands upwards through the dark hair on Geoff's chest, feeling the beat of the other man's heart, fingers brushing against collarbone and flushed neck. Impatient, Geoff moves his hips up, grinding their erections together and unleashing a moan from both of them. Corvo slides his hands down Geoff's stomach (the callouses scrape against his skin and he presses against the touch) and grips both their cocks._

_His world is reduced to a narrow point of heat as Corvo works his hand over them both, delicious torturous friction grinding sweet and slow. He is panting, he is bracing his arms helpless against the bed as Corvo sits on him and moves his hips along with his hand._

_He is on the precipice of breaking, Corvo's knees bumping against his ribs, thighs against sides, ass against thighs, hand slowly killing the both of them. His head arches back almost involuntarily as he snaps his hips up against Corvo's, pressure and friction and heat growing to unbearable levels._

_He comes through gritted teeth, though his voice still wrests itself free of his throat. He is too boneless with pleasure to worry about the other soldiers hearing him. Corvo comes almost silently, only a sharp intake of breath before he lets himself fall against Geoff, their two bodies hot with sweat and cum atop the disheveled sheets._

_They lie side by side in the darkness, still pressed together in shared heat, silent save for their panting to catch their breath._

_In the morning, they emerge fully dressed from separate rooms and carry on as if nothing has changed. It hasn't. Corvo Attano is still the Royal Lord Protector, a man whose title defines his very existence, who lives to be the sword arm of the most important person in the Empire, whose heart and mind and body and soul will always belong to that person no matter how many others he lies with._

_And as for Geoff, Geoff is just a guard captain that got lonely at sea, but knows his betters when he sees them.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

"He's dead."  
  
Geoff's fingers went slack around the glass of wine he held as Campbell's horrible twitching slowed and finally stopped. Judging from the way Campbell had flung his glass away from him, he guessed it must have been poison.  
  
Whether it was intended for Campbell or himself was hard to say, but to be safe he opened his mouth to call for his guards-  
  
-only to be stunned into silence by a dark-robed figure wearing a ghoulish mask, appearing as if from the very air itself.  
  
His hand was on the hilt of his sword when the figure removed the mask to reveal the haggard shadow of a face he once knew.  
  
Corvo Attano was barely recognizable as the man Geoff had traveled the seas with half a year ago. An ugly burn marred one side of his sunken cheeks, unsuccessfully hidden by unkempt hair. But the worst was his eyes.  
  
Geoff had once looked into those eyes and seen a dedication that he admired, a clarity of purpose that was beautiful in its purity. Now there was only pain, determination twisted by despair and death and hate into vengeance. It chilled him to the bone to see.  
  
"Corvo," he breathed, and it hurt him to use that name to address the broken man before him. He gestured at Campbell's corpse. "You did this?"  
  
"The poison was meant for you. I merely gave him a taste of his own venom."  
  
Geoff ran his hands through his hair, his wineglass overturned and forgotten. He was at a total loss as to what to do. His guards waited still outside the closed doors, but the last thing he wanted to do was to call them in.  
  
Instead, he licked his suddenly dry lips, and said, "I know you didn't kill her."  
  
Corvo's upper lip twitched, but beyond that made no acknowledgement of him as he knelt down to search Campbell's body.  
  
"You could no more have killed her than you could have killed yourself," Geoff continued. He didn't know who he was saying it to any more. Was he trying to reassure Corvo or himself? Maybe he was just trying to convince himself that he hadn't been wrong in his judgment of the Royal Protector, that he hadn't been so naive as to see purity and devotion in a man where there was none.  
  
Corvo pulled a small black book from Campbell's belt and tucked it away into his own coat before turning to Geoff with haunted eyes. "Don't. Don't start."  
  
"That black book," Geoff narrowed his eyes with recognition. "Before he died, Campbell told me to burn it. Granted, he did tell me to die of plague right after that, but. Corvo, what are you playing at?"  
  
Corvo sighed, and in that sigh Geoff thought he could hear the weight of six months languishing in Coldridge, six months of self-loathing for his failure, six months of the headsman's axe sounding more appealing each day.  
  
"Curnow. Geoff. You are an honorable man, and even had I not been asked to do so I would have helped you. But a storm is coming, and the farther away you are when it hits, the better. There are far too few like you in this city. Dunwall will need you once this storm passes."  
  
He was a Captain of the Guard, and did not appreciate being told to drop a lead. "Corvo, what are you involved in?" Instinctively he reached for the other man's arm. Judging by the way Corvo twitched and jerked away from the touch, that was a mistake.  
  
"You have your life. Now leave with it, or do I have to knock you out and dump you in a trash bin to keep you alive?"  
  
Geoff thought of clear brown eyes and long dark hair swept by seabreeze, of a steady gaze and quiet confidence, of calloused palms against his skin in a Serkonan pub.  
  
And he knew with a crushing and hollow finality that the man Corvo Attano had once been was dead, had been dead since the day Jessamine Kaldwin's blood spilled over the stones of Dunwall Tower. This masked assassin was nothing more than his vengeful ghost, as unstoppable as the waves that crashed upon the shores and swept away luckless sailors in their wake.  
  
"Very well. I won't ask further. I know you are a good man, Corvo."  
  
As he watched Corvo vanish out an open window into the night, he could only hope, both for the sake of Dunwall and for the man that he had once almost loved, that it was still true.


End file.
